


broken canticle

by ninthsnow



Series: your visage in the dark [1]
Category: Virtual Streamer Animated Characters
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninthsnow/pseuds/ninthsnow
Summary: "Isn't this the power you seek? Then why are you shaking like that? Come. Come look at it in the eye and say hi."
Relationships: Ninomae Ina'nis/Watson Amelia (hololive)
Series: your visage in the dark [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158011
Comments: 7
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter 1

Is this how it felt?

Unbridled, wanton rage.

It’s an odd thing to feel, Ina finds. It quietened her mind to a deafening degree, giving her a razor sharp awareness of her surroundings and let her seethe in the silent anger that dangerously simmered as the pocket watch in her hand ticked.

Ina tries to find some semblance of self-control, relaxing her grip on Amelia’s watch lest she might destroy it with how tightly she holds on to it.

Her eyes scan the room. The upturned table, the destroyed furniture, the shattered pieces of glass, the bookshelf ransacked and pages and pages of books are torn and scattered all over the place.

Ina couldn’t be bothered to mind them. Her focus fixed solely on the puddle of blood near Amelia’s favorite armchair. And when she turns her head to the side, she sees text written with red blood on the beige wall.

OURS IS THE ANCIENT ONES

Ina has half the mind to laugh at it. For a bunch of extremists who claimed to know of the Ancient Ones the best, they seemed to foolishly assume _It_ could be passed around like a toy.

Still, Ina is aware of the silence.

She summons her _book_ with a wave of her hand. Her fingers touch its cover, tapping once, twice, as if trying to stir it awake.

_So you choose to be quiet now?_

She taps again. _Its_ silence felt like a tease, a mockery, taunting at Ina as if questioning if she was angry enough.

_Wake up._

The _book's_ silence does something to Ina's anger, fuels and fans it a little more. She hears the sound of glass creaking, the surface of Amelia’s pocket watch breaking into tiny fractures when her grip unconsciously tightened.

_I’ll let you have your fun._

The _book_ comes alive with a pleased purr.

**

Amelia wakes to the sound of voices.

A cacophony of fervent chanting in a language that Amelia doesn’t understand but has heard enough of—the language of the Ancient Ones, or at least, a poor imitation of it.

It sounds _wrong_ , broken, and nothing more than a bunch of gibberish when not spoken by Ina’s tongue.

Amelia finds it very painful to breathe. She must have punctured a lung. A hard, strangled cough wracks her body and blood spills from the corners of her mouth. She can’t wipe it off, her wrists bound very tightly with rope that Amelia worries they had cut her circulation off.

Her head was spinning, she didn’t have her watch and the blood that kept dripping down her eye from the gash on her forehead was worrying. This is some serious trouble she’s in and she can only hope to get out of it with her life. She wants to do something. Anything. But the nausea was so overwhelming and she didn’t think her legs would work even if she wanted to. Whatever they injected into her system was working its wonders.

And Amelia, for the briefest moments, wonders if she could ask them for the recipe.

The chanting grows louder, increasing in intensity. So focused on their ritual that Amelia can afford to look around. Lousy kidnappers, these imbeciles.

She wills herself to sit up. Her eyes look around the candle-lit room. In the center of the room was an altar. Only one man stood by its steps, their leader, Amelia assumes. There was nothing on it but they circled around it as they chanted and chanted. She continues to look around. No windows and much to her misfortune, farthest away from her was the only exit.

The chanting is interrupted by a loud sound coming from afar. The force strong enough that Amelia feels the ground shake. 

A loud scream from outside breaks the sudden stillness of the room.

And then laughter.

Chime-like, airy, and familiar.

Ina materializes before her in a haze of dark, ominous fog.

“Ah! The priestess herself, finally. Welcome!” The man by the altar sings, merrily. He gave a theatrical bow as everyone else practically went down on their knees.

Ina had her back turned to her and Amelia didn’t need to see her expression to know this wasn’t _her_ Ina. Whoever this was radiated such malevolent intent that leaves no room for doubt that tonight, it will be raining _red_.

“Why?” Ina’s voice is low, emotionless.

The man tilted his head as if he didn’t understand. It was a mocking gesture if anything. “Why, my dear priestess, you had refused all our formal invitations. It’s only fair that we come up with something else, don’t you think?”

Ina doesn’t respond.

He mistakenly takes it as his cue to continue. “Now, who would have thought that you’d come running here yourself all because of one insignificant detective.”

“Insignificant?” Ina mimics, though she laces the word with some sort of morbid amusement. “The only reason you’re all still breathing right now is because of this insignificant detective. I say you should treat her a little more respectfully.”

The man looked bewildered at the notion. Ina doesn’t say another word.

Someone stumbles into the room, head bowed and body bent, dressed similarly with the cultists.

Amelia feels a chill creep up her spine. Something didn’t feel right.

The man who stumbled in is silent for another moment before slowly straightening himself, revealing a skinned face and a knife sticking out from an eye socket. The madness spreads across the room like a virus. Soon enough, another cultist started cackling madly, pulling at their hair. One started banging their skull on the wall. Another started to viciously attack the others. One was starting to chew at their own nails.

The nausea Amelia felt intensified ten-fold, the panic she had been trying to keep a lid on boiling over. The only other person who wasn’t caught in the sudden frenzy was the cult leader who looked increasingly disturbed as the seconds passed.

And then Ina speaks, amused and entertained.

"Isn't this the power you seek? Then why are you shaking like that? Come. Come look at it in the eye and say hi."

The candles go out in a flash only to be lit again after a second and like a protective blanket, she feels Ina behind her, an arm wrapping around her waist as the other dances on the side of her face.

“Close your eyes, my love.” Ina murmurs, low and intimate. Amelia feels chilled at the chorus of voices that shadowed the sound. Ina’s fingers traced the length of her throat, to her jaw, her cheek before Amelia’s vision is covered by her gloved hand. “This will be over soon.”

All hell broke loose.


	2. Chapter 2

They're back home.

Amelia surveys the place with tired eyes, finding that it'll take days, or even weeks, to try and put everything back into place.

Ina hasn't spoken a word. Amelia thinks she's not even breathing from the way she was so _still_ as she carried the time traveler in her arms.

She gently lowers Amelia on an armchair, the only furniture that survived the onslaught. All the while avoiding her gaze and had her face turned away from Amelia. The usually perked and lively flaps on the top of her head laid flat and motionless.

Amelia can't see her face properly and Ina seems intent on keeping it that way. Still, the time traveler sees enough to notice the strange markings on her face.

Wordlessly, Ina _kneels_ before her, hands tucked into her lap. Amelia feels something curl and spark in her gut. For someone who was powerful enough to drive a roomful of people to madness with nothing but her whim, for her to be kneeling at someone as _insignificant_ as Amelia—the time traveler can’t help but feel like a livewire.

She stomps the feeling down as quickly as it came. It was not the time to be feeling _that_ type of way.

Soon enough, Ina’s eyes catch a certain spot on the floor just beside the armchair and Amelia feels a sudden surge of malice emanate once more from the priestess.

Ina was staring at a puddle of dried blood, Amelia's _own_ blood, she realizes with a wince.

"Ina," she calls softly. "Ina, I'm right here. I'm okay."

But Ina didn't seem to be listening. The lights flickered and Amelia feels Ina slipping away once more to somewhere she can't reach.

She takes Ina's hand, pressing it to her chest to let her feel the rhythm of her heartbeat, letting her touch a reminder that they were home safe and sound.

"Ina," she tries again, pleading. "Do you feel that? I'm okay. We're back home."

It works. She feels Ina's palpable anger taper down, reduced to something like a backdrop to white noise.

And finally, Ina speaks, and Amelia has never been relieved to hear _her_ voice.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Right…" Amelia fumbles, caught off guard at the sudden question. "Right here, actually. I think my lung—"

Ina's hand glows.

Instant relief floods over Amelia and she suddenly finds breathing so much easier. It doesn't take long for the pain from other parts of her body to go away.

Still, Amelia is left unsettled because Ina hasn't looked at her once the entire time.

"Ina—"

"You should go clean up. I'll make you something to eat."

Amelia hears it in her voice, finally finding what it was that had been tearing up at Ina from the insides.

_Shame._

_Guilt._

Ina scrambles to get up her feet, as if she couldn’t wait to get away from the time traveler. The flurry of movement was hurried, contrasting the sinfully elegant way Ina had moved only moments ago.

Amelia doesn’t let her get away.

With Ina’s hand still in hers, she tugs the woman back down and into her arms. Amelia guides Ina’s head into the crook of her neck, purposefully letting the priestess to keep hiding her face as much as she wanted.

Ina remains still, doesn’t fight it.

“I love you.” Amelia starts. “I loved you then, I love you now. Eldritch priestess or not.”

Ina trembles, a quiet sob escaping her lips.

“Will you let me see you please?”

A nod is her answer. She lets Ina take her time, holds her gently and murmurs an affirmation of her love once more.

Amelia wasn’t sure what exactly it was she was expecting to see on Ina’s face but she doesn’t know if it was her own madness, or her pure love, that she thinks Ina looked _beautiful_ like this too.

Her sclera were stained a vivid black that spilled from the corners of her eyes into spidery veins that marked her entire face. The ink felt alive, seemingly moving like the blood in her veins as it danced on Ina’s skin.

Amelia can't look away, doesn't want to look away. Not when Ina herself looked so terrified and trembled like a leaf. 

She reaches out, her fingers grazing Ina's ink stained cheek. The ink _responds_ to her touch, rising briefly to harmlessly spill on the tips of her fingers before retracting.

Amelia blinks at that, reminded of a puppy licking at its human's hand.

It spurs Amelia to fully cup her cheek, thumb wiping at the corner of Ina’s eye. She leans in slowly, letting her nose touch Ina’s as she tilts her head, giving her the chance to pull back if she wants to.

She doesn’t.

It’s Ina who kisses her first. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reject angst, return to floof
> 
> also new agenda:
> 
> protecting Amelia Watson; Ina 🤝 Ancient Ones


End file.
